


First Night

by Pfain Ryder (Cat_Moon)



Category: Quantum Leap
Genre: Christmas, M/M, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-06-28 08:37:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19808674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat_Moon/pseuds/Pfain%20Ryder
Summary: Sometimes, wishes *do* come true...





	First Night

**Author's Note:**

> Published in Leapin' Friskys #4. 1995
> 
> PS: be assured that whenever you are reading the absurdity that is my Sam and Al (not just this particular story), there are going to be moments when you want to laugh out loud. They might be pretending to be serious, emotionally charged, dramatic moments. Laughter will absolutely be the correct response. Eye rolling is also often appropriate with these two.

When I leaped in, I found myself wandering along a narrow, cobblestone street. It was cold, and I pulled the coat I wore tighter against me. In the distance, I could hear shouts and laughter of a festive nature.

As I looked around more closely, I realized this place was familiar. I turned off the side street onto a main thoroughfare, and the feeling grew. Still, my Swiss-cheese memory couldn't place it.

As if on automatic, I walked until I arrived at a big park. People were everywhere, laughing and merry-making. Men were walking around selling noise-makers, party hats, and other assorted goodies. Among the boisterous crowd, there were all sorts of activities going on.

I knew where I was.

I strolled through the park toward Boston Common, seeing everything with the fondness of understanding eyes. I was in Boston, and it was First Night -- New Year's Eve. I'd spent several right here while I was attending MIT. As the memories filled me with a warmth that held the December air at bay, I didn't care why I'd leaped in. All that mattered was the sudden filling of some holes that had been Swiss-cheesed Al and I had gotten blissfully drunk and roamed the streets singing, welcoming in each new year that was always better than the last.

Until I'd had the incredible stupidity to jump into the Accelerator.

Shaking off the depressing thought, I headed with accuracy for the huge sculpture, the Totem. It was a multi-hued conglomeration, with space for writing wishes and resolutions. The very last time we'd spent a First Night there, I'd wished...we'd both wished for our time travel theory to become reality.

Of course it had nothing to do with that...even so, I found myself grabbing one of the markers and writing my own message. It said, simply, 'I want to go home.'

Feeling sad and foolish as I finished, I turned and continued along the path. I hadn't gotten far when I heard a commotion that definitely didn't sound like a party. As my gaze followed the noise, I saw a group of three men, surrounding a lone woman. She seemed distressed, so I went over to see if she needed any help.

"Is everything okay here?" I asked.

"Buzz off!" one of the guys snarled at me.

I assessed the situation. He was about six-foot-one, with a pot belly and breath that smelled of too many drinks and not enough dental hygiene. He was big, but he wasn't a problem. I looked to the woman questioningly.

"It's...okay," she said.

Still, I didn't like the vibes I was getting. And it could be why I was there. "Are you sure?" I asked her again.

"He said, buzz off!" the second jerk slurred, giving me a shove. He was a bit more solid, but much drunker.

I re-gained my balance in time to prevent falling on my butt and took a defensive stance, glancing at the third man. He was skinny, and already trying to edge away from the scene.

"I don't think she wants to talk to you," I told them.

"What are you, a boy scout? I said--" Jerk number two's words died abruptly, as I sidestepped his lunge at me, giving him a kick to help him on his way. He fell head first into a pile of snow.

The woman glanced away, fighting a grin.

"We were just having a little talk," number three said nervously. "No need to get violent."

I questioned the lady with my eyes, leaving the final decision up to her.

"Get out of here," she told them.

The two that were still standing helped their friend up, and they hurried off.

"That was easy," I said aloud, with a sigh of relief.

She extended her hand. "Thanks. I'm Melody. They're normally okay guys, just had a little too much partying. I know them from school."

"You never can be too sure," I told her. "You're here alone?"

"I am now. I had a fight with my boyfriend," she said, reluctantly I thought, though she was eyeing me--the guy I leaped into--up. I couldn't blame her, who wanted to be alone on First Night? And it would be nice to have someone to watch the fireworks over the harbor with, maybe even take in a few exhibits first...

"I could see you home...but you don't know if you can trust me, either," I admitted, giving her my most charming grin and trying to look harmless.

Melody smiled. "It's okay. I've got a gun in my purse, I'll just shoot you in the balls if you try anything."

I gaped at her. "You're kidding, right?"

She shook her head, grin spreading. "I'm a policewoman, taking extension courses in college. That's part of the reason they were busting my chops."

"Then you didn't need my help," I noted, wondering why I was there. "Well, I feel foolish," I mumbled.

"Even if I didn't need your help, I like a gentleman. You can't see me home...but we could go and ring in the New Year together."

I broke into a grin. "You've got a deal. Long as you keep your gun in its holster."

"You too, cowboy," she said, laughing.

But my plans for the evening were canceled abruptly when I felt the leap coming on. My last thought before I was reluctantly whisked away into the void of time was that I must have been there to get these two lonely people together.

And when would I be allowed to do something for _this_ lonely person?

XXX

I stumbled a little when I leaped in, staring around me. The lighting was subdued, to reflect nighttime. I knew this place too, well...and I sure as hell wasn't in Boston anymore.

I looked around with a sense of wonder. There was green garland and blinking Christmas lights hanging haphazardly from an equally colorful console. No one was around.

"It must be the holidays here too," I spoke aloud. But Al hadn't said anything about it being Christmas during the leap before the one in Boston. How long ago was that? I was fuzzy on the concept of real time, my real time.

Boston...I wished...

"I'm home!" I told the silent room. But home wasn't like I'd expected it to be. First, there were no jubilant faces there to greet me. Second, I would've thought I'd be, well, more excited. Oh, I was happy, but there was a sense of calm enveloping me. I supposed I would've felt better if the situation weren't so strange. The fact that the place was deserted gave me the creeps.

I'd wished to go home plenty of times. Coins in wishing wells, first stars, even someone else's birthday cake, once. What made this time different?

WELCOME HOME, DR. BECKETT, Ziggy's voice came out of the tomb- silence.

Feeling like a sleepwalker, I stepped forward slowly. "Ziggy! Am I really back?"

SURELY YOU DON'T NEED MY EXPERTISE TO TELL YOU THAT, Ziggy chided. WE DID NOT EXPECT YOU QUITE SO...ABRUPTLY. I WASN'T PREPARED, he added with a peeved lilt to his voice.

"Where is everybody?" I asked.

EVERYBODY? Ziggy queried, and I realized I'd better re-phrase my question, quickly.

"Why is the place deserted?" I asked instead.

TODAY IS DECEMBER TWENTY-FOURTH. SINCE IT IS THE SENTIMENTAL CUSTOM FOR YOU HUMANS TO SPEND THIS TIME OF YEAR ON VARIOUS TYPES OF CELEBRATION, IT IS ALWAYS DESERTED ON THIS DATE.

"Not even a skeleton crew?" I wondered aloud.

YOU ARE OBVIOUSLY SWISS-CHEESED, Ziggy said, with superiority I thought. OR YOU WOULD REMEMBER THAT I REQUIRE NO 'CREW' AT ALL. I AM FULLY CAPABLE OF RUNNING THIS PROJECT WITHOUT THE INTERF--HELP OF HUMANS.

"Uh...right. Where's Al?"

I DO NOT KNOW THE WHEREABOUTS OF ADMIRAL CALAVICCI AT THIS TIME.

It wasn't the answer I wanted, and I got mad. I'd finally leaped home, but there was no one to welcome me. More importantly, the person I wanted to see most, wasn't there. "Come on Ziggy, you say you can run everything yourself, yet you don't even know where Admiral Calavicci is?!"

IF I WAS ASKED TO GIVE A PROJECTION, I WOULD SAY THAT HE HAS FOUND A PARTY TO CRASH. THE ADMIRAL IS MOST ELUSIVE THIS TIME OF THE YEAR.

"You mean he always...disappears?"

YES. AS LONG AS HE IS NOT NEEDED IN THE IMAGING CHAMBER.

"What if he was?" I said, almost to myself. "I was in a leap and he wasn't there."

MOST UNUSUAL, Ziggy commented, and didn't elaborate until I prompted him.

"How can he be here if he doesn't know, and you can't find him?"

HE ALWAYS KNOWS, Ziggy answered cryptically.

"Knows what?" I said, exasperated.

HE KNOWS WHEN YOU ARE SLEEPING, HE KNOWS WHEN YOU'RE AWAKE, HE KNOWS WHEN YOU'VE BEEN BAD OR GOOD, SO BE GOOD FOR GOODNESS SAKE, Ziggy sang. I knew it was time to give up asking Ziggy for anything.

"I think you've been drinking too much eggnog," I said haughtily. A wise-ass hiccup was Ziggy's only response.

Great. I looked around me. An empty project, and no Al. Now what? If I called anyone, they'd all probably swoop down on me like vultures, ready to poke and prod with medical tests, psychological evaluations and military debriefings. Besides, it was Christmas. It wouldn't hurt to wait until the twenty-sixth when everyone came back to work, let them enjoy their holiday.

But what was I going to do until then?

XXX

For the first hour I was content to wander around the Project. I changed out of the Fermi suit into an old pair of jeans and New Mexico Tech sweat shirt I found in my locker, then went into the office and microwaved some popcorn, poked through the papers on Al's desk...basically investigating everything, and reacquainting myself with the place I'd left behind. But it wasn't enough. The radio, playing non-stop Christmas carols, only reminded me that on this, my first Christmas home in five years, I also wanted to be with loved ones.

When I'll Be Home For Christmas came on, I nearly wept.

_Okay, I'm feeling sorry for myself. So don't just sit there--do something about it!_

As I ticked off my options, I realized there was really only one person I desperately wanted to be with. I rifled through Al's desk, checking his computerized planner and address book. From there, I made dozens of calls to people I knew wouldn't recognize my voice, trying to find him. No one had a clue. From what Ziggy had told me, I didn't think Al was with anyone from the Project. Verbena had taken an early plane to be with her parents, and Tina had broken up with Al only days earlier and started dating Gooshie--formally. It was a good bet he wouldn't be with them.

If he was at a random party he'd stumbled across, I'd never find him. But some instinct told me he wasn't.

Sure, Al was a party animal, but I also knew the holidays had always depressed him. He tried to handle it by curling into himself and his solitude, but I had never let him. I guess I'd forgotten about that, because by the time we were working on PQL, he'd gotten over it and looked forward to the holidays. I felt a stab of sorrow, even as I empathized with him. I was alone, too.

Poor Al. Not even Tina...and she picks the worst time of year for him to break it off.

Then I knew where he was. Or at least, had a suspicion. I only hoped I was right, because I knew neither one of us wanted to be alone on Christmas.

XXX

With most of my memories intact, or so I hoped, I borrowed a car from the motor pool and drove down the deserted, dark highway towards a place that had once been as familiar as an old pair of jeans, now eerily foreign. My house in Socorro, the nearest town from the Project of any acceptable size. Of course, not to hear Al tell it. He lived in a condo in Alamogordo, and _that_ was his idea of a small town...at least he _had_ lived there, before I leaped. I had a feeling he didn't spend much time there these days.

When I approached the house and saw Al's car in the driveway, I felt elated, scared, and spooked. I pulled in behind it and cut the motor, just sitting there staring at the house for a long time. Home. It was a little, Spanish-style stucco cottage, with a cactus garden in the front, and two huge palm plants framing it. They'd been babies when I planted them. I basked in the memories that were coming back in bits and spurts.

Eventually I grew anxious to see Al, and went up to the door. I started to ring the bell, then something stopped me. It might have been the foolish feeling ringing my own doorbell would invoke. Instead, I got out the spare key I'd picked up at the Project, and unlocked it.

Something made me ease it open quietly, and I slid inside. Pausing on the threshold to stare around me in wonder, I heard the faint sound of the TV coming from the living room.

I tiptoed in and stopped, all fond reminiscences fleeing. Al was sitting in the couch, his back to me. Miracle on 34th Street was playing on the large screen video projector. On the coffee table in front of him sat a nearly empty bottle of whiskey and a highball glass, half full.

The whole scene was painfully obvious. Al was spending Christmas Eve on my sofa, a bottle of whiskey and old movies for company. My heart wrenched at the sight. Ever since we first met, we'd spent the holidays together, either just the two of us, or with my family. Since I'd been leaping...I counted up the years with compunction.

I had to make it up to Al, somehow. I stepped forward. "Al?" I said in a near whisper.

His head raised slightly as if listening, but he didn't turn.

I cleared the lump in my throat as best I could, and came around the sofa to face him. "Al," I said, stronger.

He looked up. For a moment, he froze. Then he sighed, a tired smile curling his lips. "Oh, hi Sam."

It was an Al I could finally touch. I was home, in my own house, on Christmas Eve. As a wave of happiness swamped me, I didn't stop to wonder why he was taking it so calmly. "Al!" I sank onto the couch and wrapped my arms around him in a bone-crushing hug, feeling tears threatening at the corners of my eyes. "It's so good to--to be able to touch you, Al."

Finally pulling back, I looked at him. His eyes were wet too, but that strange aura of resignation still emanated from him. "It's good to see you too, kid."

"I'm home, Al!" I stated unnecessarily. Or so I thought.

"Uh huh," he mumbled, hand unconsciously stroking my arm.

This was not the scenario I'd imagined. He was acting...weird. "Are you okay, Al?" I asked, becoming alarmed.

"I will be until I wake up," he told me.

"What do you mean, wake up?" I demanded, getting a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"I finished my celebrating, and fell asleep," he explained reasonably. Another odd fact to add to the list: he didn't sound all that drunk. "Here, have a beer, Sam," he said, handing me a Bud Light from the six pack on the floor. "Your favorite."

"Al, you're not dreaming."

"Let's just enjoy it...while it lasts," he said, putting an arm around my shoulder.

I opened the beer and took a generous gulp, feeling even worse. Seeing him like that cut me deeply. "Oh Al..." I murmured, pulling him closer. "I really am here. I finally leaped home."

He was looking at me with those dark, sad eyes, looking into my soul. "For now," he said.

"Al!" I shouted, getting frustrated. "I'm here!" I shook his shoulders to emphasize my point. "Really."

"Please don't spoil it, " he begged.

"But I'm--" Before I had a chance to finish--and to my utmost astonishment--he silenced me in a way he'd never done before. Hands that were both rough and soft cupped my face, and a pair of careful lips closed on mine in a gentle but persistent kiss.

I don't know why I didn't pull away immediately. Too surprised, I guess. It was Al who pulled back, looking at me sadly.

"Oh, Sam..." he murmured, stroking my hair lightly. "I wish...I wish I'd told you how I felt about you before you leaped. You don't know how much I love you."

The words, spoken so softly, brought a swell of emotion. I'd had no idea Al felt this way. Never a clue. Now that I did, what was I going to do about it?

Al would do anything for me. _Anything._ The least I could do...

What was I talking about?! Besides, that would be a mercy fuck, and I knew enough about my best friend to know how he felt about those.

_But he thinks he's dreaming. He doesn't think this is real._

And I was beginning to have serious doubts myself.

"What can I do to convince you you aren't dreaming?" I asked, mostly to myself.

"You don't have to convince me," Al said, cupping my chin. "I can pretend."

"But--"

Again, he silenced me with his lips. It must have been all those years of being alone, of not touching anyone who knew me. I found I was starved for human contact, a human that was whispering my name.

"Come to bed with me, Sam" he said, taking my hand.

"This...you're really not dreaming," I managed through a shaking voice. "Call Ziggy, ask..."

He grinned a sly, sexy grin at me and shook his head. "This is _my_ dream, and I don't have to listen to you."

I ignored the implications of his comment for the moment, not wishing to feel any more guilty than I already did. Growing more amazed at myself by the second, I let him lead me into the bedroom I hadn't seen in half a decade. We were in darkness except for the TV from the living room. It was enough to see by, but my eyes didn't bother to register the decor, they were riveted to the sight of Al undressing me.

_Am I actually going through with this??_

I didn't know what else to do. Or so I told myself, repeatedly and adamantly. Until his fingers had finished unbuttoning my shirt and thumbs rubbed my nipples. I shivered, my mind spinning.

_I like this..._

His tongue bent to lick the hard buds and I was lost. I threw my head back, moaning. "Oh god, Al..." I groaned breathlessly, hands grasping his shoulders tightly.

Al looked up at me, smiling knowingly. Unlike me, he didn't seem the least bit surprised by my reaction. After all, it was _his_ dream, his fantasy. Was I just Al's dream, not real? I shook my head at my brief slip into philosophical whimsy.

Maybe I was the one dreaming, I finally realized. It made more sense than anything else in this crazy situation. That would explain the surreal feeling I'd had ever since leaping in. It didn't seem real.

And if it was a dream...why not. If it wasn't...

_I love Al, he's my best friend. He's always been there for me._

Why not.

I took his red and green silk shirt off, the one I bought him years ago, caressing the warm skin under my hands. I'd never touched a man like that before, but I found it very pleasant. I'd wondered...more than once, but I could hardly find the time to pick up women, let alone get involved in clandestine trysts with men. And the only experimenting I'd had interest in was performed in a lab.

To give and receive love was what was important, not the gender of the person sharing it with you. That brilliant flash of insight wiped away my vague thought of trying to stop the proceedings. Al wanted this; he needed it.

And, as my startled brain finally understood...so did I.

Suddenly I hungered for his touch in a way I'd never felt before. Maybe it would assure us both of the solid reality our fragile minds couldn't or wouldn't accept. I paid close attention to every move he made, soaking everything into my very pores.

Our shirts were on the floor at our feet, and Al's hands were on my belt, undoing it, slowly pulling my jeans down. His eyes openly appraised me, and I blushed and ducked my head at his lingering gaze.

"In dreams you can do things you'd never be able to do in real life," Al was explaining as he slid his own pants and underwear off.

I carefully stared at the bedspread as his nakedness was revealed. I had no idea what to do, how to... But as always, I had a feeling Al was going to be my teacher.

"Things that shouldn't be done in real life..." He finished undressing and reached for the waistband of my briefs.

A bitter regret temporarily insinuated itself at his chilling words. Dammed, either way. "What if it wasn't a dream?" I whispered.

"I wouldn't be doing this," Al said, reasonable, actually, and took off my last piece of clothing. "And you definitely wouldn't be letting me."

Maybe he had a point.

Al was calm, in charge and comfortable in his knowledge that it wasn't real. But underneath was a desolation, and knowing I'd caused it was something I didn't think I could ever forget. I pressed my lips to his, asking forgiveness through the kiss.

 _When was the last time you got laid?_ my usually-leashed libido asked as Al pulled me into him and our naked flesh pressed together. I was Swiss-cheesed on the answer, but I had a definite feeling it wasn't recently. _This is making love!_ I reprimanded it.

Al was just holding me, hands smoothing my back as if I was a fragile sculpture. He'd always made me feel special, now more than ever I felt singled out, cherished beyond measure.

I rubbed my lower body into his, to see what would happen. We both groaned, and repeated the movement, several times. Our lips met again, getting to know each other intimately. Our minds and souls were already entwined, it seemed only fitting our bodies complete the bond.

Then Al pulled himself away with obvious effort, hands still caressing my sides and arms. "I wish this dream could last forever," he said in a rough voice.

Only _I_ could make that dream come true.

As Al bent his lips to my chest, tasting me, my eyes stumbled across the feathered Dream Catcher hanging from the ceiling, and I sent a fevered prayer across the room...before I closed my eyes and stopped thinking. I reached out and grabbed his penis in both my hands, feeling totally awkward even though I've done it to myself a million times. My mind was steam-rolled by a pure sensation I'd never felt before in my life.

It was a unique experience, totally alien to me. No one had ever affected me like that, and I don't recall ever spending a moment of waking hours--or sleeping ones for that matter--not thinking of anything. I felt the living flesh in my hands, as it grew and hardened to my touch. Heard his groan as he arched his pelvis to intensify the contact. Smelled...oh god, what I smelled...it made my head spin.

But it was Al's dream, and he was insistent on setting the pace. He allowed my fumbling caresses for a few moments, then pulled away and sat down on the bed, taking me with him. It wasn't until then that I noticed the covers were already turned back, sheets rumpled. They smelled of Al, and my clouded mind was pleased.

Al kissed every inch of my body, taking care not to miss any. In my lover's haze I had no facilities, but somehow he was taking me to dizzying heights, yet keeping me from getting too close to the edge of the cliff.

"I want to make love to you, Sam. Do you want me?" he asked--shyly!--when he'd finished his reconnaissance and touched my lips with his own again.

My mind was trying to tell me something important, something I didn't realize and should, but we had a bad connection. "Yes," I said, knowing it was a trick question.

My body immediately noticed the cessation of stimulation and my passion-clouded eyes tracked his retreat into the bathroom. My ears cataloged rummaging around in the cabinets. Then I had my most coherent moment of the night when I watched him walk back into the room, erection jutting outward, as if seeking me. The sight brought both wave of desire and terror, as my eyes fastened on the tube of K-Y in his hand and I realized what I'd missed.

I was numb with...shock, fear, desire? Al turned me over onto my stomach, and seemed to take a few minutes to mend the rift in our sensual mood that the mundane matter had caused. He stroked and licked and gently bit my back and ass until I forgot he'd ever been gone. He murmured things from time to time. I couldn't make out most of the words, but it didn't matter. I knew I could listen to Al's beautifully soothing voice anytime, the words weren't important.

Then he was smoothing lube onto the cheeks of my ass, slipping a coated finger into me. And I felt like I'd just woken out of a sound sleep. This was no casual romp in the hay. For me, it was very serious, I was about to give myself to another man. For Al it was just a dream...would he use care with my frightened virgin body? I'd heard plenty of his sleazy stories over the years, some of them about women who liked to 'play rough'. Were they true? What was I getting myself into?

I turned partly and reached back a hand to grab his arm. "Al...please, let's just take it slow, okay?"

He bent over and nuzzled my neck. "I could never hurt you, Sam," he said tenderly.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

"But I want to see your face. Please..." he said in a voice I couldn't deny. "It'll be okay, you'll see," he murmured as I flipped over. Then he pushed a pillow under me and eased my legs back. It was an unfamiliar position and I felt silly, but neither of us laughed.

His finger caressed inside me, coaxing my stubborn anal muscles with patience I wouldn't have had if it'd been me. He spent a long time just letting my body get used to this step, adding another finger when I was relaxed enough. Thank god, even in a dream, Al was ever attuned to taking care of me. It gave me a warm feeling, that deepened as he leaned over my body to kiss me, his fingers still inside. The movement pushed them deeper into me, and with a groan I decided I was ready for the next step.

"Yes," I sighed in bliss.

The next thing I knew, his cock was seeking entrance.

My body welcomed him, and we were joined completely. He drove into me, and I started seeing little flashing squiggly lines before my open eyes. Instead of fogging my senses further, it hit me with a burst of pure awareness like the kind that sometimes comes from being stoned; the situation was crystal clear, as if I'd been the one dreaming and...and what the hell was I doing? I'd always been the one in control during sex. Yet here I was now, naked on a bed with my best friend, legs spread wide and knees back. Then Al was thrusting harder and I had my answer.

_Making love..._

XXX

I don't remember much beyond that point, just vague impressions and vivid recollections of incredible pleasure, culminating in an earth-shattering orgasm. Suffice to say, you can fill in the blanks pretty easily. I returned to earth again--with a major thump, watch that first step, it's a doozy--when I opened my eyes the following morning. When we really, truly, absolutely and positively realized it wasn't a dream.

Sun was streaming through the gold, brown, and yellow curtains. I took a moment to soak up my room, with its southwestern blend of Indian throw rugs, several pieces of pottery, the Dream Catcher, an incense burner shaped like a clay adobe atop an ultra-modern cobalt dresser...and a holographic picture of Al and me.

And remembered I wasn't alone in the bed.

I glanced over at Al with a mixture of joy and trepidation, not daring to even speculate on his reaction when he found out he wasn't dreaming.

His eyes were open. He was staring at me carefully, as if evaluating the situation. I tried a reassuring smile, but it seemed to unnerve him.

"Are you real?" he asked in a tone which believes but doesn't want to. There was something like panic growing in his gaze now.

"Flesh and blood," I grinned nervously, taking his hand and placing it on my chest.

He yanked his hand away, and I tried not to let the pain of rejection show. _He doesn't want you,_ a cruel part of my mind taunted. _He just wanted a temporary, kinky fantasy._

 _Things that shouldn't be done..._ his voice from last night echoed in my head. I tried not to let tears blur my vision as the mind that had decided to work again--a little too late--mulled over scenarios much like Ziggy did while I was leaping.

Al didn't want this in real life, that was apparent. It was all a horrible mistake. He'd be awkward now, not knowing how to handle me in reality, worried over how I felt about last night. It could ruin everything, including our friendship. It was up to me to protect it, and I needed to, because I couldn't bear to lose _all_ of him.

"Listen, Sam," he began hesitantly, uncomfortably. "We gotta talk."

"Hey, it's no big deal," I assured hurriedly. "We were both feeling...lonely last night, and thought we were dreaming."

A closed expression came over Al's features, and he was silent for awhile. Then he gave a strained smile. "I'm glad we're not going to let this...accident affect our friendship. It means too much to me," he said, low.

When I could have used a comforting touch, there was none. We were both naked and in bed together, sticky with each other's sweat and semen. He would not reach out until we were safely behind our self-imposed solitary walls again.

"It's my house, I get the shower first," was all I said as I bounded up from the bed and practically ran into the bathroom.

Besides, a vindictive part of me said, let him sit there with the smell of my body on him and no way to ignore the reminder.

I made it a long shower.

**AL** :

Sam was lying.

We both were, though we were trying desperately to pretend nothing was different. My God, how could we ever hope to pretend _this_ had never happened?

Although I was still having a hard time believing it. That's why I'd thought it was a dream last night, it was too easy. Nothing in my life ever went like that. Even my second wife, who was crazy about me and a nympho, had made a few token protests the first time I tried to get her into bed. But Sam wasn't a woman, he was a man.

_Oh my God, I sodomized him!_

I watched Sam surreptitiously as he picked at the breakfast I'd made while he was in the shower. Why did he let me do it? I remembered him trying to tell me it wasn't a dream. Hell, I wasn't even that drunk. My mind just couldn't accept that he was finally home again, just like that, at a time when I was going out of my mind with missing him. My proof had been how readily he'd acceded to everything I'd done.

 _It's no big deal,_ he'd said. Well, it was a very big deal to me. I gazed at him intently; at the open and proud face, the beautiful, vulnerable eyes that used to look at me like they did no one else. It was the biggest deal of my life.

"I'm sorry, Sam," I said quietly, breaking the silence that had stretched on so long I wanted to scream. But as I said the words, I knew a part of me wasn't sorry at all. That night would be my most cherished memory, no matter what came next.

Sam stared at me for a long moment, and for once I couldn't read his expression. Finally he looked down. "I told you, it's okay," he said in a low voice.

"No, it isn't," I forced out the words I didn't want to voice. "We said it wouldn't affect our friendship, but it already has. I...I fucked you," I said, purposefully blunt.

The sting hit him like a slap in the face; I could almost see the red mark of my hand on his cheek. "What are you saying?" he whispered.

"We can't pretend this never happened, and you know it. I...I betrayed your friendship. How can we get back what I've lost us?" I asked, voice choked. "How could you ever trust me after?"

"I'll always trust you!" he almost shouted, eyes pleading with me to make it all go away--something I wanted desperately to do, but couldn't. And I wasn't even sure I would if I could.

 _Even if it means losing his friendship?_ I asked myself. Somehow, I had to fix things. I just didn't have a clue how. I should have shut up and let us go on pretending, but I was compelled to this much honestly, at least. "No, you think you would. But it would eat away at you. Eventually--why didn't you stop me?" I suddenly yelled with wounded accusation, feeling myself shift some of the blame to him.

"I've done this before!" Sam blurted out, sounding panicked.

"What?" I stared at him.

"It wasn't my first time," he answered, gazing at me with a hint of guilt. "So it's no big deal. Forget it."

The confession hung in the heavy silence between us. I was speechless, as a thousand things ran through my head. At first there was disbelief, but as I ran back over the previous night, I realized he had been too accepting, not a trace of hesitation or distaste. No one acts like that the first time they've ever... What I originally thought was proof of a dream was really proof of prior experience.

_Someone else has made love to him..._

The flare of jealousy took me by surprise with its intensity. I couldn't bear the thought of him belonging to someone else, even for a night. Then I was swamped with anger at what he'd put me through. All the agonizing, guilt, fear of losing him because of what I'd 'done' to him--all of that pain for nothing.

Normally, I'd have been embarrassed and ashamed at having these possessive thoughts about my best friend. But knowing he'd had sex with other men changed things, drastically. He wasn't an innocent I had to protect after all. He'd obviously been fooling me, very adeptly.

And every time I thought about it, pictured him with some guy, and put it together with what I'd gone through that morning--and every day of my life since I'd realized what I felt for him--I saw red.

"Why didn't you tell me?!" I demanded, in what Sam always used to call my admiral voice.

His eyes opened wider and he seemed to shrink a bit.

"Why for the love of God did you let me suffer like this?!" The guilt in his eyes deepened but it only increased my ire. I jumped up and went around the table, grabbing his arms in a bruising grip. "Tell me!"

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered in a shaky voice.

"You're gonna be sorry!" I promised. It was like a dam letting loose. Years of yearning, fear, and need, finally released. "Do you have any idea how many years I've loved you, wanted you? Wishing I could touch you, hold you and show you--and all the while, when I thought we were best friends, you weren't being honest with me!"

"Neither were you!" he defended himself.

"I did it for _you_!" I shouted, fingers digging into his shoulders. He winced slightly. "It's all been a lie," I continued. "I don't even know who you are!"

"I'm yours," the soft words were torn from his throat, placating, begging.

My own pain was still too raw. I couldn't respond the way he wanted me to. "Prove it," I answered brusquely, pulling him up and practically dragging him into the bedroom.

Sam stood there placidly while I took off my clothes, but his lack of emotion only inflamed me more. I tugged the robe he wore off roughly, tossing it aside. Then I stared at him, standing there like some fucking Jesus, waiting to be nailed to the cross.

It made me angrier with him, but suddenly I was disgusted with myself as well. I let my hands fall to my sides and backed up a step. "Are you trying to get me to rape you?"

He shook his head, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.

"Good, because it ain't gonna work," I told him, starting to turn away, bending to pick up my clothes.

"What's the matter, Al?" his taunting voice surprised me. "Can't handle it unless you're in control?"

 _I haven't been in control since the day I met you,_ I thought resentfully.

"There's got to be a way to push your buttons," he continued, deliberately trying to bait me. "What's the problem, you can only get off on guilt and martyrdom? You don't have to feel guilty for fucking a poor innocent virgin--plenty of guys have fucked me."

He'd always known where all my buttons were. It was about time I stopped following him around like a manservant, I decided. I'd always done everything he wanted, hell, I even stopped drinking when he asked me. Except for a few times after he'd started leaping, when I defiantly got loaded, figuring if he could forget me, I could forget my promise to him.

I grabbed his waist and pulled him into me, crushing our mouths together. There was no need to take care now that I knew the truth about him. My lips and teeth moved down to his neck and he seemed to melt into me in total surrender. He sighed, then whimpered. I was painfully hard, and I melded my body into his. It wasn't anger turning me on, it was desire and pain, desperation and hopelessness. The pain that had built up through years of yearning; the pain of knowing I suffered for nothing. That while I was wishing and needing, he was off getting screwed by faceless men who didn't even love him.

I pushed him down on the bed and knelt next to him, grabbing the tube of K-Y from the table next to the bed. He reached out a hand in the air in my direction, his eyes glazed and unfocused.

I covered his body with my own, kissing him deeply. My tongue probed his throat as if it belonged there, and I felt his erection grow. His arms closed around me, as mine held his shoulders as if he were trying to escape. My mouth moved down his body, biting a nipple. He cried out, thrusting himself into me with growing fervor.

I hastily coated my cock, then pulled his legs onto my shoulders and plunged in, closing my eyes seconds after he did. I pumped into him in a frenzy of passion, and he rose up to meet my driving rhythm, moaning at each thrust. My heart pounded in time to my thrusting, and the blood sang in my ears as I strove to get deeper, to be inside him so far I'd touch him where no one ever had, listening to him cry my name until his voice was ringing through my head.

Sam screamed and I felt his seed bathe my stomach. Finally, when the pleasure rose to an unbearable height, I felt myself tighten up and fall over the edge in explosion.

After an endless moment I lifted myself off Sam to lay at his side, touching his face wonderingly and giving him a wet, open-mouthed kiss. Surely he'd forget all the others and remember only me after this.

I looked into those tear-filled eyes and saw love, devotion, and even more vulnerability that he'd ever shown...and suddenly knew I'd been had. I knew what that face reflected. Honesty. I _was_ his first.

"Oh baby..." I grabbed his face in my hands, kissing away the tears. My heart constricted painfully.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," Sam whispered. "I belong to you. Please don't hate me, I need you. I'm sorry..."

 _What have I done?_ repeated in my head, like a stuck record. Just stripped away his dignity, turned him into a whimpering submissive. Then I realized we'd already played that song, it wouldn't help anything.

"It's me who needs _you_. We belong to each other." I had to make him see the gesture wasn't one sided. "I love you, Sam," I said with as much feeling as I could pour into mere words.

Body shaking with emotion, Sam put his arms around my neck and buried his face in my shoulder. I rocked him, murmuring comforting words until we were both semi-recovered from the storm that had ravaged us.

"Why'd you tell me you'd been with men before?" I asked quietly.

"I...I didn't want you to feel guilty. I wanted you to love me," Sam said, gazing up at me with eyes that no longer hid anything.

"I'm the one who's sorry," I said the familiar words for what seemed like the thousandth time.

"Two sorrys cancel each other out," he told me with such a beautiful smile, I had to kiss his lips.

"Welcome home, Sam," I finally said, when we parted.

His eyes smiled at me, glowing with secret meanings. _I'm home because I'm with you,_ they said. "Me too," I murmured as he snuggled closer and laid his head on my chest.

I gently touched the bruise I'd left on Sam's neck, a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. He raised his head and locked eyes with me, his expression telling me it had been...everything but unpleasant. I dropped my gaze abruptly.

"You're blushing," Sam said with obvious pleasure.

"Shut up," I grumbled, and he chuckled.

"Playing a little rough makes you uncomfortable? Don't tell me all your stories about your sex exploits were just stories," he said.

"They were not!" I defended myself. "It's just...it's different with you."

"Me, too," he said softly.

I knew what he meant, finally we were in total understanding. There was no one on earth Sam Beckett would open himself up to as completely as he did me. I felt like I'd discovered the secret to the universe. We were hopelessly crazy about each other. And very probably made for each other.

I ran my fingers through his hair, loving its softness against my skin as we basked in the long denied intimacy. Yes, much longer than the five years he was leaping. I played with his hair, ran my hand down his back, letting myself get used to the fact that he really was mine. I knew I'd still have to pinch myself every now and then--always.

"It's Christmas!" Sam piped up suddenly, as if just remembering. It had slipped my mind as well.

"Hey, what do you say we go down to the living room and you can open up some presents? You've got five years' worth waiting for you under the tree."

Sam sat up, gazing at me with his mouth turned down at the corners. I tried to physically lift them up until he smiled and nipped at my fingers. "I don't have anything for you," he said.

I shook my head, caressing his cheek with the back of my hand. "You gave me the greatest present in the entire universe. You gave me yourself."

A wisp of a smile lit his face, as his eyes closed and he leaned forward, lips touching mine. The kiss was lingering, and oh so sweet.

"And my love, and my devotion, and my loyalty, and my--" he started when the kiss ended.

"You came home," I said simply. "That's all I need." Then I grinned at him mischievously. "That and a juicy turkey. Maybe some stuffing, mashed potatoes with gravy..."

"Do we have any of that in the house?" Sam asked.

"Does a TV dinner count?"

"You've already stuffed the turkey. We could go out to eat."

I found myself lost in those bottomless eyes. "Later," I said, pulling him closer. "Much later. I have a present to give you, first..."

A lot of presents were opened that day. And it really is better to give than receive.

Especially when they're one and the same.

**the end**

7/13/93


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